"Then in that case we have to consider the possibility that in spite of my proximity to the car I was so engrossed that I heard nothing. Remember, the car windows were up, and if they were careful in opening and closing the car door and if they conversed in low tones I wouldn't have heard them. Also, the way she was killed, by strangulation, would have prevented her from crying out."
Lanigan pointed at the rabbi's head. "What do you call that thing you're wearing?"
The rabbi touched his black silk skullcap. "This? A kipoh."
"Then forgive me, rabbi," he said, grinning, "but you're talking through your kipoh. Why would they be careful about opening and closing the car doors and keeping their voices down to a whisper when they had no reason to assume anyone was within earshot? If they were there before it began to rain, they would have lowered the windows. It was warm, remember. And if it was during the rain, Norman surely would have seen them. What's more, there was no indication the girl had been in your car. Look here." He opened his dispatch case and took out some papers, which he spread on the rabbi's desk, and they all drew near to look. "These are the total contents of your car-a list of what was in every receptacle. Here's a diagram of the interior of the car showing where each item was found. Here's where the handbag was found, on the floor under the seat. Here in the plastic trash pocket were lipstick-stained tissues, but it was your wife's lipstick. On the floor in the rear, right behind the front seats, there was a bobby pin but it was your wife's. There were a number of cigarette butts in the front ashtray and one in the rear ashtray, and all were lipstick-stained with your wife's lipstick, and it was the brand she smokes because they're the same as the partially filled pack we found in the glove compartment."
"Just a minute," said Miriam, "that one in the rear ashtray can't be mine. I've never sat in the back seat since we got the ear."
"What's that? Never sat in the back seat? That's impossible."
"Is it?" asked the rabbi mildly. "I have never sat in any seat but the driver's seat. Actually, the back seat has never been used, come to think of it. Since we got the car, less than a year ago, I have never had occasion to transport anyone. When I am in the car, I am in the driver's seat, and when Miriam comes along she sits beside me. What is so strange about that? How often do you sit in the back seat of your car?"
"But it must have got there somehow. The lipstick is your wife's, the brand of cigarette is hers. Look here, here's a list of what was in the girl's handbag. No cigarettes, you notice."
The rabbi studied the list. Then he pointed. "But there's a cigarette lighter, and that would indicate that she smoked. As far as the lipstick goes, you said it was the same brand and shade as Miriam's. After all, they're both blondes."
"Just a minute," said Lanigan. "The bobby pin was found in the back of the car, so you must have-"
Miriam shook her head. "Sitting in the front seat, it would be in the back that the pin would fall."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Lanigan, "but it still doesn't give us what you'd call a clear picture. She had no cigarettes-at least there were none in her purse, right?"
"Right, but she was not alone. There was someone with her-the murderer-and he probably had cigarettes."
"Are you saying that the girl was murdered in your car, rabbi?"
"Precisely. The lipstick-stained cigarette in the rear ashtray proves that a woman was in the rear seat of my car. The handbag on the floor in the rear shows that it was Elspeth Bleech."
"All right, let's say she was there. Let's even grant she was killed in your car. How does that help Bron-stein?"
"I'd say it clears him."
"You mean because he had a car of his own?"
"Yes. Why would he drive into the parking lot with the girl, park alongside my car, and then change cars?"
"He might have killed her in his own car and then transferred the body to your car."
"You're forgetting the cigarette in the rear ashtray. She was alive in my car."
"Suppose he forced her into your car."
"For what reason?"
Lanigan shrugged. "Perhaps to avoid having any signs of struggle in his own car."
"You're not giving that cigarette its full weight as evidence. If she smoked that cigarette in the rear seat of my car, then she was at ease. No one had his hand at her throat-no one was threatening her. For that matter, if after taking off her dress she had to go back to Bronstein's car for some reason, why would she have put on the raincoat?"
"Because it was raining, of course."
The rabbi shook his head impatiently. "The car was right in front of the house. How far? Fifty feet? She had put on a topcoat to cover her slip, and that certainly was protection enough against the rain for such a short run."
Lanigan rose and began to pace the floor. The rabbi watched him, unwilling to interrupt his train of thought. But when he continued silent, the rabbi said, "Bronstein should have come to the police as soon as he found out what happened, admitted. For that matter, he shouldn't have picked up the girl in the first place. But even if you can't condone it, it is understandable in the light of the situation at home. And again you can't condone his withholding information from the police, but you can understand it. Arresting him for questioning, with its attendant publicity, is more than enough punishment, don't you agree? Chief Lanigan, take my advice and let him go."
"But that would leave me without a suspect."
"That's not like you."
"What do you mean?" The chief's face reddened.
"I can't imagine you holding a man just so that you can report progress to the press. Besides, it will only hamper your investigation. You'll find yourself thinking about Bronstein, trying to evolve theories that put him in the picture, checking his past, interpreting whatever new evidence comes up, from the point of view of his possible involvement. And that's obviously the wrong direction for your investigation to take."
"Well…"
"Don't you see, you've got nothing on him other than his failure to come forward."
"But the D.A. is coming down in the morning to question him."
"Then tell him he'll turn up voluntarily. I'll go bond for him. I'll guarantee his appearance when you want him."
Lanigan picked up his dispatch case. "All right, I'll let him go." He went to the door, and with his hand on the knob he paused. "Of course, rabbi, you realize that you haven't exactly improved your own position."
22
Al Becker was not one to forget a favor. The morning after his partner was released, he went to see Abe Casson to thank him personally for his good offices in the matter.
"Yeah, I spoke to the district attorney but I didn't get far. As I told you, this case is being handled pretty much by the local police, at least so far."
"Is that customary?"
"Well, it is and it isn't. The lines of authority aren't clearly drawn. The state detectives usually come in on murders. The district attorney in whose county a major crime is committed and whose office will have to prosecute, he's in on it. Then the local police, because they know local conditions, they have a hand in it. It depends a lot on the character of the local police chief and on the character of the D.A. and what men are available and what special issues are at stake. You take in a big city like Boston, it would be the Boston police who'd be running the show because they have the men and they're equipped for it. Now down here, the investigation is being run pretty much by Hugh Lanigan. Mel was picked up on his orders and he was released on his orders. And I'll tell you something else: Lanigan released him as a result of some new angle or some new interpretation of the evidence that the rabbi showed him. That's not customary, if you like-I mean, a cop giving someone else the credit for some clever detective work-but then Hugh Lanigan is no ordinary cop."